


Pleasurable Company

by 68legs



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Drabble, Friendship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/68legs/pseuds/68legs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All they've got is each other, a dinghy, and half a bottle of rum. Likely set somewhere around the start of Dead Man's Chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desperation Cuisine

**Author's Note:**

> First POTC fic, written at twelve am because the tag felt empty and I am a deeply unfortunate soul.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a status quo is established.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two is loads better, go ahead and skip to that if it suits you.

"You don't suppose you can eat a shark?"  
They've been at sea for three days now and Pintel finds himself questioning yet again why Ragetti still has a functioning eye.  
"Sure I could."  
"I mean, hypothetically. Could we catch a shark an' eat it?"  
"That don't sound too hypothetical t' me."  
"I'm just wondering, y'know. Curious."  
When Pintel doesn't respond for a few more seconds, Ragetti taps at his shoulder, prompting a growl.  
"What?"  
"I'm thinking it wouldn't matter anyway. I mean, considering. Haven't got a stove or nothin'."  
"So?"  
"So we couldn't cook one if we caught it."  
"I'd eat it raw."  
"Y' can't do that, can you? They got sharp skin."  
"I'd skin it."  
"Still wouldn't trust it. Diseases an' that." Ragetti stares forlornly into the water, drawing his knees to his chest. "Bet it'd be awful tough anyway. Couldn't get the teeth through it."  
"Would you quit blatherin' about food?"  
"But it's not food, is it? Just established that. Now, if there were _salmon--_ "  
"If you had an ounce'a meat on yer bones I'd have half a mind t' eat _you._ "  
Ragetti goes quiet. Pintel shoves his shoulder.  
"What was that for?"  
"It's yer turn rowin'."  
"You've only been at it for a minute or so!"  
"You made me hungry." Pintel snaps, throwing him the oars, "Now it's yer turn."  
Ragetti wonders briefly whether Pintel would also be too tough and diseased to eat.


	2. Booze and Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The life of a pirate is often monotonous, so small things can carry unusual weight. 
> 
> In which Pintel feels a change in the winds.

"So I been thinkin'."

Pintel lets out an anticipatory groan from under the piece of cloth shielding his eyes. Above them the sun is a spinning ball of hellfire, and he can practically feel the flesh melting from his bones. He already knows he's going to regret giving Ragetti the attention before he's said a word in response. 

"What."

"Is it true that drinkin' seawater drives y' mad?"

" _You_ drive me mad."

"No, I mean it. It's lookin' real refreshin'..."

At that, Pintel sits up, squinting accusingly. Now that his companion's not just a rambling voice in the heat, something's different about him, and it ties Pintel's guts in knots when he can't place it. 

"Don' tell me yer thinkin' a' drinkin' that?"

"Maybe I am. I'm awful parched..."

Ragetti gazes longingly into the water. Pintel, not taking any chances, cracks the flat of his hand across his companion's hollow cheek, prompting a yelp. 

"You wouldn' be so thirsty if you'd quit yer blathering."

That gets him to shut up, and Ragetti drops his head without so much as a mumbled complaint. It's probably the first time in a while Pintel has heard him _not_ speaking, and the silence yanks on the knot in his gut, pulling it tighter. This is supposed to be a relief, but it hasn't solved anything and now Pintel doesn't know what to hit to make the weight in the air go away. 

Pintel suddenly realizes what's different about Ragetti when the pirate sitting across from him reaches up to touch the mark and his fingertips shudder. 

He's fragile. 

Pintel props himself up, scowling, and drags a hand down his face. He briefly wonders whether some of the seawater's already gotten in his mouth, that's how stupid his plan is. 

"Rags."

"Yeah?"

"I still got half a bottle a' rum left." This is accompanied by a downright lecherous slosh, and Ragetti nearly drops the oars into the water. 

"Yeah, well, if you're done rubbin' it in--"  
"Just take it, y' git."

This time, Ragetti really does drop the oars, but Pintel's already got them in his hands, jerking his head to indicate the bottle sitting in the floor of the boat. Ragetti looks genuinely shocked, even considering his usual expression of vacant awe, and Pintel prays he doesn't have to catch him too. 

"You're-- you'd do that? For me? Really?"

"Take it 'fore I change m' mind."

Ragetti nearly dives for it, tittering gleefully, and remains curled up with it at Pintel's feet for the remainder of his turn. 

He never even opens it. The gesture is more than enough.


End file.
